


Respite (Late Night Talks)

by Kerriathechosen1



Category: Penumbra (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Attempt at Humor, Clarence is an asshole, Clarence is bored, Explicit Language, Frictional Games Challenge, Humor, Light Angst, One Shot, Philip needs to sleep, Poor Philip, Reflection, Respite, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:06:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23714098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerriathechosen1/pseuds/Kerriathechosen1
Summary: This is a part of the Frictional Games Challenge of 2020. This work is prompt #4, "Respite."Philip finally gets the chance to sleep, but Clarence doesn't want him to.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 15





	Respite (Late Night Talks)

Philip was bored and tired and all he wanted to do was go to sleep. He was in a pretty safe-looking room with the door blocked off, well away from the kennels and outside of the Infected patrol patterns. He’d taken off his winter coat and folded it up under his head like a pillow, laying the rest of his body against the checkerboard-tiled floor. He had no idea if it was nighttime or not anymore, but he was exhausted enough to assume it was. That, or his sleep schedule had already gone whack in what could have only been days.

It hadn’t even been a  _ month  _ since he was last aboveground, and it felt like years. It felt like it would take years  _ still  _ until he’d make it out. He didn’t really think he’d ever make it out, though. After all, Red — god, just thinking his name caused Philip’s heart to twist in pain — had been trapped for thirty-some years. Thinking that he could get out in under one left a sour taste in his mouth. Even if, by some stroke of luck, it were that easy for him to escape, he’d live with the everlasting guilt that Red had been suffering for almost his entire life. Philip couldn’t even begin to imagine an existence so full of despair. He wouldn’t want to survive.

Then again, Red hadn’t, either. But the Tuurngait wouldn’t let him die.

Philip’s death wish wasn’t half as extreme and desperate as Red’s. After all, Philip was being hunted down, and he’d rather not be caught to suffer the same fate; no thanks. However, moments like this, when he was struggling to shut off his brain for the night, he sometimes thought to himself that maybe death was a better alternative to the absolute pain in the neck that was Clarence.

“Will you ever shut up?”

“C’mon, monkey, answer the question.”

“No, because this is a terrible time for Would You Rather, and I’m not choosing between kissing one of those deformed bodies and fucking a dog. Now, get out of my head—”

“You’re boring,” Clarence whined. “I’ve got nothing to do up here! Either you entertain me now, monkey, or I’ll just slide on into one of your dreams and wreak havoc there.”

“I thought we made a compromise. You don’t mess with me, and I keep us alive.”

“Psh.  _ I’m  _ the one keeping us alive here. I don’t see  _ you  _ having a mental map of my kind’s whereabouts.”

“I don’t see you taking the wheel.”

“Smart aleck.”

“Go to sleep, Clarence.”

“No.” Philip groaned groggily, but Clarence didn’t let up. “Because you know what? I don’t sleep. Instead I get to sit here for five hours in  _ excruciating  _ boredom while you have a loopy school-girl fantasy! And I don’t even have to do  _ that _ , monkey. I could keep you up 24/7 if you really piss me off. So you’d better think about listening to what I say, and answer the goddamn question!”

“Fine,” Philip yawned. “The one that doesn’t involve the dog.”

“Disgusting.” Clarence’s voice sounded smug. “Absolutely disgusting.”

“Weren’t they both?”

“You’re revolting.”

“Uno reverse card.”

Clarence laughed at that, and Philip let his body relax, assuming the conversation was finally over. But as he finally felt himself drift away, the Tuurngait’s voice made him snap awake.

“So, what’s the deal with that damsel in distress, huh? You got a thing for her or what? I mean, who knows if she’s as pretty as you think she is. What if she’s already got one of us inside her?”

“She doesn’t.”

“And if she does? You still gonna want her then? Even if there’s no  _ dog  _ alternative?”

Clarence was seriously testing him now. Philip knew exactly what the infuriating virus was implying, and you know what? He didn’t care.

“What do ya mean, you don’t care?”

“Shut up, Clarence.”

“Look, I get it, she has the voice of some heavenly angel or whatever — and whatever floats your boat. But, look, getting to that chick is gonna be nothing but trouble. And didn’t I tell ya when I metcha —  _ I’m  _ the only guardian angel you need.”

Philip rolled his eyes. He didn’t need this conversation. He rolled over onto his other side, as if he was turning his back on Clarence. “That’s gay. Go away.”

Philip closed his eyes once more, wishing Clarence away so he could finally drift off in peace. The room fell silent. He curled in on himself, a gentle breath of contentment escaping him as he started to fade from consciousness.

“... So, why do you think I sound American?”

Philip blinked a few times. Okay, fine, whatever. Clarence was  _ clearly  _ not going to let him sleep. He grunted as he stretched, trying to at least make himself comfortable, since Clarence had just undone all his progress at getting some shut-eye. It wasn’t like he was in a safe enough situation to rest often, so he had to take whatever chance he could get… and yet, the irritation that was Clarence knew no bounds.

“Stop being such a pansy. I’m actually curious here. I didn’t  _ choose  _ to have a voice. After all, I didn’t even choose to  _ exist _ . It all just happened on its own.”

Philip shrugged. “I don’t know. You’re a dangerous and bothersome pest, so my subconscious chose an accent that it thought fit the role? Don’t ask me; you’re more in touch with the workings of my brain than I am.”

Philip had to pause and think about what he’d just said. Clarence knew his brain more than he did himself at this point. That was… alarming.

“No shit,” Clarence replied. “And, isn’t that kind of racist?”

“Now you’re dragging my morality into this.”

“Psh. Human morality is you monkeys’ undoing. But, yes, I  _ am  _ calling to question your morality, because you’ve done plenty of things that make me really wonder if it exists.”

Philip’s eyes narrowed. “Go on.”

“Well, for starters, you burned a man alive. That’s not exactly ethical.”

“No.” Philip scowled. “You don’t bring Red into this. And he asked me to.”

“You killed a man.”

**“I didn’t have a choice!”** Philip yelled, and it only took him a second for horror to dawn on his face, realizing that he’d spoken aloud instead of in his head.

“Shit,” Clarence cursed. “All right, pull your shit together, monkey. I’ll change the subject.”

Philip held his breath, listening for any sounds of movement beyond the walls. He heard nothing, but now he felt a pulsing in his chest, and suddenly he was afraid of falling asleep.

“Relax, they were out of range. You got lucky that time, but  _ don’t  _ do it again.”

Philip breathed out. “Okay. You done? Can I get to sleep now?”

“Hmm. Fine, I’ll stop asking you questions. But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop talking.”

“Fine.”

Philip shuffled until he was in just the right position again, letting Clarence’s voice wash over him as he just started talking. About useless things, mostly — about how annoying it was being trapped in Philip’s head, how Philip should have read and watched more because Clarence was running out of entertainment and human lives were so despicably  _ boring _ , about his own opinions on the characters in Philip’s favorite shows and why they sucked.

Strangely enough, Philip was actually rather interested, and instead of letting the words turn into background noise and lull him to sleep, he fought his fatigue just a little bit to hear the rest of Clarence’s opinion. (Mainly because he wanted to refute it.)

But then Clarence changed the subject from character development to… humanity in general. He started talking about what he’d like his body to look like if he was a monkey — as well as what he’d rather kill himself  _ and  _ Philip than turn into. Philip listened for a while, but mostly on the Tuurngait’s tone and speed than the words themselves. The subject seemed to interest him more than the others he’d brought up.

It was curious; the Tuurngait looked down on humanity, but with each passing sentence, Philip got the sense that Clarence  _ wanted  _ to be more like him. Well, of course he wanted a body; that was only natural — the Tuurngait needed hosts. But Clarence was starting to sound like he wanted a body for  _ himself _ . That sort of self-centered desire sounded far different from how the other had described his kind.

“You know, you’re more human than Tuurngait, from what I can tell, at least.”

Clarence didn’t respond. Whether his silence was in agreement or denial, Philip couldn’t know. He waited for the other to change the subject and continue to rant, but he didn’t even do that. Instead, he lapsed into an unnatural silence, one that gave Philip goosebumps.

Philip’s anticipation grew the longer Clarence stayed silent. He must have felt it, because finally the Tuurngait sighed and mumbled, “Feel free to get some shuteye, monkey. I’ll just be sifting through your memories, I guess.”

Philip blinked; Clarence sounded tired himself. But before they could share any more thoughts or feelings, Clarence’s presence seemed to fade away in his mind. For a moment, Philip thought he was completely gone, but he knew that wasn’t true. Clarence would never leave; he couldn’t even if (though) he wanted to. It was the one thing Philip could count on.

Too exhausted to argue, Philip shifted into a more comfortable sleeping position and closed his eyes. As he allowed himself to drift away, he pondered what it felt like to be Clarence — whether it felt as empty and lonesome as the darkness of the back of his eyelids, or whether it was like living in a body you couldn’t control. He wondered if there was any joy, or meaning, or if it was as hopeless as everything else down in this place.

Philip slipped away into a dreamless sleep, but Clarence found no respite.


End file.
